


Winter Wind

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 88. Alec/Ben, (preferred, but you can switch Ben out for someone else if you really want.) prompt: Ben likes watching Alec play the piano. He really, really likes it, and he's got no patience for the bad mood Alec always seems to get into when he plays, or letting those talented fingers go to waste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wind

**Author's Note:**

> For jam_pony_fic summerfest. Any fic with Alec and Ben together takes place in a happy little AU of mine wherein Ben is (mostly) healthy again and helping make a life for himself and his fellow transgenics before T.C. Also, this is what Alec plays.
> 
> kink_bingo: my WILDCARD (Spaces, Scenes, & Settings)

Winter Wind  
(“Étude in A Minor, Op. 25 No. 11”)  
By Mina Lightstar

 

Squatting, Ben decides, definitely has its advantages.

“This is practically a mansion!” he laughs, sliding down the old rickety banister. He regrets it as soon as he hits the bottom and finds his jeans coated in dust.

“Most of it’s already been gutted,” Alec shouts from the second floor. Ben looks up, and his twin appears at the top of the stairs. “Most of the furniture is still around, but anything of value’s already been snatched up.”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “Who cares?” It’s not their place, anyway; they’re just on the prowl for a hideaway for a group of wayward transgenics. “This should be good enough for Max, right? I mean, you pretty much have to come in through the second-story windows if you don’t want to make a scene, but not making a scene is the point.”

Alec trots down the steps. “It oughta be good enough,” he figures, glancing around at the boarded-up windows, covered furniture, and conspicuous empty spaces where painting used to hang. “If she hates it, she’ll just make us find another spot.”

Ben chuckles. “Same old Maxie.”

“We have to stop owing her favors,” Alec says sternly.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees.

“Or we’ll be doing this every other week,” his twin continues.

“Right.” Ben wanders to what must be the sitting room. It has huge, heavy curtains hiding the criss-crossing boards. There are several pieces of wrapped furniture, including an impressive, familiar one by the window. Ben grins to himself, and starts uncovering the shapes one by one. He unearths a settee, a chaise, and a couple of regular chairs.

He saves the best for last.

“Alec!” he shouts, gripping the tarp. He waits, feeling giddy. When his twin appears in the doorway, Ben yanks the cover off, revealing the parlor grand piano. It’s sleek and black, unmarred by time or vandalism. “Guess they couldn’t get this out to pawn, huh?” he quips, looking up at Alec.

His twin’s face has closed up. “Nice piano,” he says, clinically.

“Alec,” Ben calls as he turns to leave. “Alec, please?”

“ _No,_ ” Alec snarls over his shoulder.

“ _Please,_ ” Ben pleads, shameless. “It would make this whole night worth it. I’d love to listen.” Alec is still poised to go, but he hasn’t moved. Ben presses his advantage. “Would you play for me? Just for me,” he emphasizes, and pulls out the bench from underneath the keyboard. Alec still hasn’t moved. Ben lifts the lid and props it up. He steps away to observe his handiwork.

The piano is a single spot of beauty amidst the dust and decay.

“Lady, Alec, look at it,” he breathes. He rushes around to the window and pulls the heavy drapes aside. The moonlight creeps in between the boards, bathing the sitting room in blue light.

Ben looks over at his twin. Alec is still in the doorway, but he’s staring at the piano. No, at Ben.

“Come play,” Ben whispers, beckoning him. He smooths a hand over the empty bench.

Alec comes forward slowly, like he’s stepping into another world. He walks like he should be wearing a tuxedo, or a suit, or anything but the old black jeans and black t-shirt he’s sporting now.

Ben moves aside, letting Alec have the bench. He watches his twin ghost his fingers over the ivory keys. Ben licks his lips in anticipation. He loves listening to Alec play the piano. Fuck, he wishes Alec _had_ a piano.

“What do you want to hear?” Alec asks, sounding indifferent.

“Whatever you want to play,” Ben murmurs.

When Alec launches into the first haunting notes of Chopin’s _Winter Wind_ , Ben’s stomach tightens itself into a painful knot. _Lady,_ he loves this piece. It’s a little melancholic, a little uplifting, and requires an amazing amount of dexterity.

He watches Alec from behind at first, observes how his back moves to the music, how his arms flex. He has to resist the urge press up against his twin and ruin the whole performance.

Ben ventures closer, peering over Alec’s shoulder to watch his fingers fly over the keys. He plays like he was born for it, like he should be performing at recitals instead of cat-burglaring. He makes _Winter Wind_ smooth and effortless, puts his soul into every note.

Ben wanders around the piano. Now he can see Alec’s face, bathed blue from the moonlight. He’s not even looking at the keys. He’s playing with his eyes closed, from memory. Ben feels desire roiling deep in his belly; his cock twitches.

“Alec,” he rasps with a suddenly dry mouth.

His twin doesn’t acknowledge him. The piece is almost over. Ben studies Alec’s face. Alec’s expression is dark and tightly drawn. He’s as melancholic as the piece he’s playing.

But Ben should have known. Alec hates playing piano. It makes Ben want to reach deep inside and take away whatever it was that made this so. It’s not fair that such a beautiful thing makes Alec so upset.

Ben fidgets in place, waiting. For all the pain on Alec’s face, the rest of him moves with the music. It’s winding down now; those memorable, final notes….

Ben punctuates Alec’s last note by shoving the stick in, causing the piano’s lid to crash shut. His twin jumps at the sudden bang, staring up at Ben in surprise.

“What the hell, Ben? You _wanted_ me to—”

Ben yanks him off the bench so hard it gets knocked over. “That was beautiful,” he gushes sincerely, peppering Alec’s face with kisses. “You’re beautiful.”

Alec tries pulling away. “You’re just saying that because we’re twins,” he dismisses, playing it off as a joke.

But Ben isn’t having it. He shoves Alec against the keyboard, propelling a random amalgamation of notes throughout the room. Ben tries kissing the melancholy right out of his twin. He coaxes and sucks and strokes until Alec is kissing back with just as much passion, wrapping his arms around Ben’s neck. He shifts against the keyboard, causing more notes to echo through the sitting room.

“Oh, Lady,” Ben moans, sucking a welt into Alec’s neck. “Play something else with your ass.” He grinds Alec further backward, pushing him along the keys. Single notes reverberate from beneath them. “We could write a piece right here. Call it _How the McDowells Fuck._ ”

Alec actually chokes out a laugh. “We can’t,” he protests, even as he rolls his head away so Ben can feast on his neck. “We’d break the keyboard.”

“Fuck the keyboard,” Ben growls, pulling their clothes off. “Not gonna sit you on it. Gonna bend you over and fuck you into the keys.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Alec snorts, stepping out of his jeans and boxers. But at least he’s not upset anymore. Not upset at _all,_ Ben realizes with a start when Alec’s talented pianist fingers wrap around his cock.

He fucks into Alec’s hand for a minute or so, then remembers what his twin had said. “I’ll show you ridiculous,” he promises, pulling Alec away from the keys and into his arms.

“Oh please, show me,” Alec invites with a cocky grin.

Ben gets to wipe the smirk of his face when he lifts Alec straight up and deposits him on the closed piano lid. Ben climbs up after him, but settles on Alec’s side instead of atop him. He readjusts their legs and grins at Alec’s puzzled expression.

“What are you waiting for?” Ben demands. “Put those lovely fingers to good use.” Leading by example, Ben sucks two of his own fingers into his mouth before pushing them deep inside. It burns a little — but deliciously so; fuck, there are definite perks to being a transgenic.

He scissors himself open, panting as heavily as his twin. He watches Alec’s hand move steadily as he fingers himself, face twisted into a needy, starved expression. Ben allows himself a smirk.

He moves first, hovering over Alec and sinking slowly onto his cock. He bites his lip to stifle the groan and Alec rolls his head back, mouth open in a silent gasp. The piano notes have long since faded. Now the music is their moans, their pants, and the way their skin slaps together. Ben doesn’t touch himself — slaps Alec’s hands away when he tries. He rides his twin like a stallion until Alec cries out, coming fast and hard and dropping boneless against the piano.

This is what Ben has been waiting for. Alec is beautiful like this: covered in a thin sheen of sweat, glowing from sex and moonlight. Ben rearranges them, lifts one of Alec’s legs over his shoulder and pushes in as slowly as he can. Alec sighs, throwing his arms back — such a picture of perfection that Ben almost loses it right then and there.

He fucks in gently. Alec grunts his encouragement. Pliant and content, his twin opens easily for him. The piano rocks a little with each thrust, but Ben isn’t concerned. He starts fucking in earnest, growling and biting and _claiming_ and Alec just lies there and _takes him—_

He comes with a shout, fucking deeper and deeper, hips unable to stop moving even as he fills Alec up. It’s only when he collapses on his twin that he remembers he has Alec’s cum leaking out of him, too. Probably all over the piano.

“I’m not cleaning it,” Alec says immediately.

Ben barks a laugh. “Neither am I. We’re gonna throw the tarp back on. No one’ll notice.”

He wants to follow it up with _Maybe we should come back sometime_ or _Hey, why don’t we get a baby grand?_ but doesn’t.

Too soon.

~End.


End file.
